


Riddles

by beargirl1393



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gen, Implied Relationships, Implied Slash, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Minor Character Death, Poisoning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-27
Updated: 2013-06-27
Packaged: 2017-12-16 09:16:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/860474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beargirl1393/pseuds/beargirl1393
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prince Sherlock was bored, so he set out with his faithful servant and friend John to find something interesting.</p><p>Based on 'The Riddle' by the Brothers Grimm</p>
            </blockquote>





	Riddles

Prince Sherlock was bored.

This was a fairly common occurrence, and the only one who had any hope of bringing him out of his royal sulk was his faithful servant and best friend John. Even John was at a loss as to what to suggest to entertain his majesty this time, after all his suggestions had been shot down, so when the prince decided he was going traveling, John was right there beside him.

“It could be dangerous,” Sherlock said as he checked that his saddlebags had everything he would need.

“That’s why I’m coming with you,” John replied calmly, finishing polishing and sharpening his sword before putting it back in the sheath. Sherlock just smiled at him, and so the two set out.

* * *

 

They wandered for hours, ending up in a forest just as the sun was going down.

“Now where will we sleep?” John groused.

“Sleep’s boring,” Sherlock replied, examining the local fauna to see if there were any he hadn’t seen before, especially ones he could add to his research on poisons.

“Regardless, _I_ like to sleep, and we need to find somewhere relatively safe to do it,” John replied, tugging his friend and prince’s arm until Sherlock straightened up with a huff. As he did so, he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. Turning, he saw it was a maiden walking through the forest.

“She’ll have somewhere safe to sleep,” Sherlock mused, pointing to the maiden. “Use your charms if you’re so fussed about sleeping.”

John rolled his eyes, but nonetheless he followed the girl until she came to a cottage, at which point he stepped out of the tree covering.

“Pardon me,” John said, giving a low bow, “But would it be possible for my friend and I to spend the night here?” He gave her a charming smile (used whenever Sherlock had decided to annoy someone with another of his ‘experiments’ when they were at the palace) and she flushed even though the sadness didn’t leave her eyes.

“Oh yes,” said Soo Lin (for that was the girl’s name), “But I wouldn’t if I were you.”

“Why not?” John asked, confused. There was room for them, they needed somewhere to sleep, why wouldn’t they come here?

“My step-mother dislikes strangers,” Soo Lin said, looking over her shoulder at the door before whispering, “She practices the evil arts.”

Sherlock had joined him by this time, and when John looked at him he just shrugged.

“We’ll be fine,” John said, and Soo Lin nodded, even though she still didn’t look too happy about it.

“Don’t eat or drink anything she gives you,” Soo Lin warned as she led them into the cottage. “She brews deadly poisons.”

“Really?” Sherlock asked, sounding interested. “What kinds?” John nudged him, causing him to scowl. “I need to know John! What if it’s a kind I haven’t found yet?”

John just shook his head, far too used to Sherlock’s behavior to be surprised.

The witch was sitting in a rocking chair by the fire when they entered. She had black hair, and the red eyes that every witch has.

“Good evening,” Shan (the witch) said, gesturing to seats near the fire. “Have a seat.” Shan loathed visitors, but she loved any excuse to test out her new poisons, so she wished to have them stay for a time.

Thanks to Soo Lin’s warning (although Sherlock _swore_ that he would have known the food was poisoned without her help) neither man ate or drank anything the witch gave them. John slept peacefully by the fire while Sherlock prowled around the hut, finding all of the witch’s hiding places and swiping some of the poisons he hadn’t had a chance to acquire yet. He then lay down beside John and slept until early the next morning.

* * *

 

“God, you wake up far too early,” John grumbled, rubbing sleep out of his eyes as he saddled his horse. “When you sleep at all anyway.”

“Sleep is boring,” Sherlock reiterated, turning and riding away.

Shan came out with a glass filled with something (something poisonous knowing the witch) but the vial shattered before she could give it to John. Thankfully none touched his skin, but his horse didn’t have the same luck and the poison was so deadly that it dropped dead as soon as a drop touched it’s skin. John jumped out of the way and ran off to find Sherlock, leaving the horse and his gear behind.

“We should go back for my stuff,” John said after he told Sherlock what happened. The prince grumbled but obligingly followed John back to the cottage.

There was a raven eating the dead horse, and John killed it before it could fly away.

“Who knows if we’ll find anything else to eat,” he said, shrugging at Sherlock’s raised eyebrow. Sherlock said nothing, sneaking back into the cottage while John gathered his things. He spiked the witch’s drink with one of her own poisons before she was aware of it, freeing Soo Lin from her step-mother’s tyranny.

* * *

 

Sherlock’s horse was hardy enough to carry both of them, and neither had packed much, so their pace was not much slowed from the previous day.

“Any idea where we’re going?” John asked from his place behind Sherlock. He had his arms around the taller man’s slim waist, mostly to ensure that he wouldn’t fall off but also because he wanted to.

“To find something that isn’t dull,” was Sherlock’s less than helpful reply.

They traveled for the rest of the day, stopping at an inn after dark. John handed the raven he killed over to the innkeeper and told him to cook it for supper.

Sherlock pulled John outside on the pretense of tending the horse to whisper his observations. The innkeeper was the leader of a ring of cutthroats and robbers. His men would dine with them that night and would likely try to kill them in their sleep.

“We should leave,” John said, tightening his grip on his sword. Sherlock, as usual, had no weapon, and John wasn’t sure he could take on twelve men without one or both of them getting injured.

“We’ll be fine as long as we don’t eat the stew,” Sherlock said off-handedly, striding back towards the inn and ignoring John’s questioning glances.

John soon realized what Sherlock meant, as the eleven murderers and their boss had no sooner taken a bite of the stew, made with meat from the raven, than they all fell down dead.

“The raven was poisoned from eating the horse,” Sherlock explained as John prodded at one with his boot. “The poison seeped into the stew and killed them all.”

“Brilliant,” John praised, causing Sherlock to flash him a smile. Sherlock only ever smiled for John.

The only one left alive was the innkeeper’s daughter, who was quite an honest lass despite her heritage, and she showed John and Sherlock rooms full of the treasures of the thieves.

“Dull,” Sherlock said, turning his back on the girl. “Keep it, I have no use for it. Come John.”

John rolled his eyes but followed his prince, nodding to the stunned girl as he left.

“Where to now?” he asked as he got the horse ready.

“Somewhere to find something that is not dull,” Sherlock replied.

* * *

 

They soon set out again, and after riding for several days they came to a town where a beautiful yet arrogant princess proclaimed that she would marry anyone who could give her a riddle that she could not answer. She was allowed three days to guess. The princess, Irene, also said that if she was able to answer the riddle then the prince who tried would have his head cut off. Princess Irene had guessed each riddle asked of her, and so far nine princes were beheaded.

Sherlock was intrigued by this, and informed John that they were going to the palace to ask the princess a riddle.

“She is supposed to be beautiful,” John said, ignoring the voice in the back of his head that didn’t want Sherlock to marry any princess.

“Who cares about how she looks?” Sherlock asked, looking over his shoulder at his friend. “I have no intention of marrying her anyway. I want to see if she is as clever as they say she is.”

Once they entered the castle and where showed to where the princess was, John was shocked to notice that she greeted them dressed in very revealing clothing.

“Distraction technique,” Sherlock muttered disdainfully. “She uses her looks to throw others off balance.” His tone said that that would be no problem for him. He turned to face the princess and, smirking, delivered his riddle for her. “One slew nobody yet slew twelve. You have three days to guess.”

With that, he strode away, leaving the princess considering the riddle. John followed Sherlock, barely keeping from laughing.

“You’re insane,” he said once they had reached their rooms.

“You came with me; what does that say about you?” Sherlock asked, smirking and causing John to laugh harder.

Meanwhile, though she tried every method she could think of, Princess Irene could not think of an answer to the riddle. As the day drew to an end, she sent her maid, Kate, to go and listen at the prince’s bedside while he slept. She hoped he would talk in his sleep and reveal the answer to the riddle.

They didn’t count on John, however. He had been passing the room on his way back from the kitchens and so heard their plans. He switched rooms with Sherlock, and when Kate approached the bed he grabbed her cloak and sent her away.

Sherlock laughed, shaking his head and muttering about idiots, but he agreed to switch rooms for the next night as well. It was good that he did, for the princess sent another maid to try the same trick, and again John stole her cloak and sent her running.

On the last night, Sherlock had an idea. “I will sleep in my room,” he said, not divulging more than that, but John could tell from the gleam in his eyes that he had something interesting planned.

Princess Irene herself snuck into Sherlock’s room that night, not knowing that the prince was still wakeful. He was lying in the bed, and she crept to the edge, kneeling beside it so she could whisper in his ear, “One slew nobody; what does that mean?”

“A raven that ate a dead horse and died of it,” Sherlock replied.

“And yet slew twelve, what does that mean?” she pressed.

“Those are the twelve murderers who ate the raven and died of it,” Sherlock said, wondering how she hadn’t figured this out on her own. He moved his hand, enough that she didn’t notice, and gripped her cloak tightly. When Princess Irene tried to leave she found that her cloak was caught and she’d have to leave it behind.

* * *

 

The next day, the princess answered the riddle as it had been described to her the night before. John looked at his friend, but Sherlock just smirked before standing and proclaiming that Irene had cheated. As proof, he displayed the cloaks he and John had taken from Irene and the two maids, explaining what they had heard and observed.

The judges were suitably impressed, recognizing the princess’s favorite cloak that she would go nowhere without, and told Sherlock that he could use it to make his wedding cloak.

“No,” Sherlock said, turning on heel and leaving. “I am going back to my kingdom. There are people far less dull than those I’ve found here. Come along John.”

* * *

 

And so Prince Sherlock and his faithful servant John rode back to his kingdom, John listening as Sherlock talked about any number of things. And if the prince squeezed a bit more tightly than he needed to as he rode on the horse behind John (after declining the offer of another horse from the princess who couldn’t seem to realize that she had lost and Sherlock didn’t care for her) then that was their business. And if John was relieved that Sherlock had barely given the princess a second glance, that was their business as well.

It should be noted that the cloak was indeed made into a wedding cloak, and on a fine spring day Prince Sherlock wed the only one who had ever interested him, the only one who was not dull.


End file.
